


Throw Me Back in the Water

by winterschild



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Children, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Endgame Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Harry Styles Loves Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are Saps, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Kid Fic, Louis Tomlinson Calls Harry Styles Pet Names, Louis Tomlinson Loves Harry Styles, M/M, Oblivious, Past Zayn Malik/Louis Tomlinson, Pining Harry, Pining Louis, briefly mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25612921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterschild/pseuds/winterschild
Summary: “Oh, of course, Mr. Tomlinson.  I don’t want this to sound accusatory.”“It’s a little late for that, it might seem.”  Harry squeezed Louis’ hand comfortably, hoping to send the message that he needed to calm down.The headmistress kept her smile, “I don’t mean any offence, Mr. Tomlinson, but we have our concerns that he refers to Mr. Styles here as a father figure, in particular ‘papa,’ which in fact isn’t necessarily true.”~Or...Harry and Louis are very comfortable in their life together.  When Harry's best mate, the one he happens to be insanely in love with, came home four years ago and told Harry he was having a kid, he made the decision that him and Louis would raise the child together.  What happens years later when it all starts catching up with them?
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 19
Kudos: 220





	1. Chapter 1

“Morning, Haz!” Harry looked up from straightening out his tie, shooting his best mate his best smile. He took in Louis’ appearance, noting how his tight slacks hugged his bum, and how his blue button-up made his eyes pop beautifully. Harry made his way inside the kitchen completely, leaning on the counter to see what Louis had been cooking up.

“Good morning, Lou,” he responded happily, walking through to the dining room where Beckham sat in his booster seat at the table, dragging a red crayon across a colouring page. He leant down, placing a kiss on the three-year-old’s forehead. “Morning, Becks.”

Harry was met with the striking Tomlinson blue eyes that Beckham was blessed with and a toothy grin as the toddler greeted, “Morning, Papa. How sleep?”

The tall man took a seat in the chair to Beckham’s left, turning his body towards the little carbon copy of Louis as he said, “I slept very well, baby. I had marvellous dreams!” He gesticulated his arms widely, causing giggles to erupt from the three-year-old, who bounced excitedly in his chair.

“Tell me! Tell me!”

Harry’s eyes grew wide in amusement as he continued, “There was this fish that kept jumping out of the sea because he didn’t want to be a fish anymore!” 

“Oh no! Papa! Fishy need water!” Beckham’s eyes widened in concern and his arms flapped on the table.

“I know, baby! But, then a little boy came along to the sea, wondering what it was like across the water. And he found the fish! He quickly picked up the fish with some water, transporting him into town to find him a bowl.” Harry paused for dramatic effect, moving in closer to the toddler, who was at the edge of his booster seat. He continued, “But then the fish outgrew the bowl, so he put him in a backpack. When the fish outgrew the backpack, the boy found him a tank!” Beckham gasped. “Finally, the fish became too big for the tank, so he had to set him free into the ocean where he found his family.”

Beckham smiled, but it quickly turned into a frown again, “But, papa, the boy! He loosed friend. Next?”

“Well, Becks, I guess we’ll just have to see what I dream tonight, yeah,” Harry suggested, a wide smile taking over his features as he messed with Beckham’s fringe of his peaky blinders cut. Beckham went back to his colouring, where he continued to scribble a now-blue crayon into the blob of red.

“And we can’t wait for that story, right, Becks?” Louis appeared from behind Harry, making the younger man jump slightly, which was quickly recovered with a smile. Louis placed a plate of eggs with bacon down in front of Harry, before placing a smaller plate in front of his son. “Can we put the crayons away for brekky, darling?”

The toddler looked up at his dad with the signature Tomlinson pout, eyebrows furrowing and bottom lip jutting out. Beckham whined, “But daddy, I draw!”

“I know you draw, Becks, but we have to eat brekky before you go to preschool today,” Louis explained gently as he took his seat across from Harry. “We don’t want your tummy all grumbly until snack time, do we?”

“No, daddy,” Beckham sighed, setting his crayon down and pushing them away from him. He picked up his little Spider-Man fork and began digging into his eggs.

While the little boy was distracted by the food in front of him, Harry looked up at Louis and said, “So, I’ll drop him off today and you don’t mind picking him up, right? I didn’t think you had rehearsals tonight and I’ve got that stupid author’s meeting tonight—you know, the one who’s always like an hour late?”

Louis swallowed before answering, “Sounds perfect, Haz. Thanks for dropping him off this morning; I hate early morning parents’ meetings, but hopefully this will make Jeremy stop acting up in class.”

“Still giving you troubles?”

The shorter lad just shrugged as he took a bite of his bacon. “I don’t know, really. I mean, it’s not really me he’s giving trouble to. He’s been pulling pranks on his classmates for months and it’s just a major disruption when I have to help the girl in front of him remove gum from her hair with peanut butter instead of teaching the kids the wonderful woes of Shakespeare.”

Harry eyed him curiously, continuing, “You think it’s a behavioural thing?”

“Maybe,” Louis sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Whatever it is, though, I just want it to stop.”

“Papa,” Beckham interrupted, looking to Harry. “May I have more milk, please?”

Harry nodded, picking up Beckham’s cup as he said, “You may, Becks. Good manners.”

“Thank you, Papa.” After Harry had gotten the boy more milk and the three of them finished their breakfast, Louis quickly ran to get his satchel, leaving Beckham with a kiss on his forehead and Harry with a kiss on his cheek. Harry gathered round Beckham’s school bag after Louis had walked out the door, making sure he had packed the kid’s favourite toy and some snacks for the day.

With a lot less of a fuss than Harry was expecting, he had managed to get himself and Beckham out the door on time and buckled into his car, allowing him enough time to stop for his morning Starbucks run. Beckham just sat in his car seat, kicking his legs as he traced the buildings outside his window with his finger.

Every now and again, Beckham would ask Harry a question, giving him a backstory of how he heard it from another kid at preschool. These questions were normally saved for the drive home from preschool, but the boy must’ve heard Harry say Louis was picking him up. They were one of Harry’s favourite parts of the day because he really got to see how much Louis the boy really had in him. It really was a weird situation when Louis had come home to Harry nearly four years ago and told him he had gotten a girl pregnant. And while it was surprising at first, Harry didn’t regret telling his best friend he wanted to help raise the baby, especially in moments like these. It seems odd to outsiders when Beckham calls Harry ‘papa,’ considering him and Louis aren’t together, regardless of how much he wants that to be true. However, in all honesty, Harry wouldn’t change it for the world. 

The Range Rover pulled into the preschool parking lot, where Harry easily put it in park and made his way to get Beckham from the car seat. He carried the smaller boy in, who was leaning his head on his shoulder and sucking his thumb—he and Louis really need to work on breaking that bad habit soon. 

Two women were at the front counter chatting when Harry walked in, both unfamiliar to him as they were the morning staff, but Harry assumed one of them was the headmistress, who was never there when he usually picked up Beckham in the evenings.

“Good morning, ladies,” Harry greeted, walking up to the desk to sign Beckham in.

Beckham’s head perked up and he removed his thumb from his mouth, waving it at the woman who was standing, “Morning, Miss Ashley!”

Her face brightened with a smile when she saw Beckham, calling back, “Hi, superstar! How are you doing this morning, Beckham?”

“I good! Had a big brekky,” the little boy shouted happily. He looked over to Harry, pointing at him, “This is Papa! Can I get down now, Papa?” Harry chuckled as he nodded, placing the small boy on his feet. Beckham hugged him around his leg, placing a kiss on his knee before running behind the counter. He stopped short of the door before turning back around to run to Harry. “I forgetted my bag, Papa!”

“You did, babe,” Harry agreed, putting the straps over the boy’s arms. “Maybe don’t run off so fast next time, yeah?”

“I sorry, Papa.” Those beautiful baby blues, the same ones that Louis would give Harry when he wanted something, looked up at him with a slight pout. “Cuddle to say sorry?”

“Come here, babe,” Harry laughed, crouching down to pull his little man into his arms. He kissed the side of his head before pulling back. “Don’t forget that Daddy is picking you up today, love. I’ll see you before bedtime though, I promise.”

Beckham nodded seriously, causing another chuckle to come from Harry, before he responded, “Okay, Papa. You have to be there to read my story.”

“I will be. Now get going, babes.”

Beckham gripped onto his backpack straps tightly, turning back around and skipping back behind the counter and through the door to the preschool. Harry smiled as he watched him bounce off his feet playfully until a voice caught his attention.

“I didn’t know that Louis was married, Mr. Tomlinson. It’s a pleasure to meet you finally,” approached Miss Ashley with a smile. She moved from around the counter to stand next to Harry. “I know Beckham always mentioned a second parent, but I didn’t know you two lived in the same home.”

“Oh, I’m not Louis’ husband. I’m Harry Styles, I usually pick Becks up in the evening,” Harry clarified, a slight blush on his cheeks. “And while you might consider me a second parent, I’m actually Louis’ best mate that he lives with. I am Papa though,” Harry chuckled awkwardly. “I’ve practically raised the kid with Lou, I suppose.”

Harry noticed the slight falter in her blinding smile, but she picked it up quickly, “Oh. Well, my apologies, Mr. Styles.”

“No need to apologize. A lot of people are confused at first,” Harry explained. His phone vibrated in his pocket, forcing his to check his Apple Watch and see a notification from work. “Let me apologize now, but I must be getting off to work. It was a pleasure to meet you both.” The two women waved him goodbye as Harry hurried his way back to his SUV and headed to work.

After a gruelling ten-hour day, full of meetings and bitchy clients, Harry finally trudged through the door at 7:30 pm. He tossed his bag on the floor and his keys onto the side table off the front door, taking in the silence of the apartment. Once he managed to untie his shoes and set them neatly by the door, he slummed his way into the dining room, where Louis was just now clearing off the plates from dinner.

Louis looked up, eyes sparkling brightly when he saw Harry, “Hey, H. You’re home.”

“Yeah,” Harry grumbled, “Finally. God, it was an awful day.”

Louis looked at him sympathetically. “That bad, huh?” Harry just shrugged. “Well, I just put Beckham down for bed and told him I’d be up to read him a story—we weren’t sure if you were going to be home on time. How about I warm up dinner for you and you can go read him his story?”

Honestly, nothing sounded more perfect to Harry than that. “Thank you, Lou. So much.” Harry walked over to the shorter man, placing a kiss on his temple, which was returned by a kiss on the cheek, before making his way to Beckham’s room.

He knocked lightly, pushing the door open enough to slide in and found Beckham already snuggled in his bed, hugging his whale plushie. “Hey, buddy. Sorry, I’m late.”

Just as Louis’ had done a few minutes before, the little boy’s eyes lit up spectacularly; Harry seemed to have that charm on the Tomlinson men. “Papa! You made it! Daddy telled me you were worked!”

“Well, I couldn’t miss storytime, now could I?”

“No! Can we read _Louis the Fish_ again?”

Harry smiled, pulling _Louis the Fish_ off the shelf before he snuggled in next to the boy, who easily climbed on his lap. He began reading, getting about three-quarters of the way through, until he heard the soft breaths of Beckham, signalling him that he had dozed off. Harry closed the book, setting it softly on the side table, before gently climbing out of the bed. He shifted Beckham so he was lying comfortably, bringing the sheet up to his chin and leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Nighty night, Becks. I love you.” Harry turned to leave the room, jumping when he noticed Louis leaning against the door frame with a soft smile present on his lips. “Jesus, Lou, don’t do that.”

Louis chuckled lightly, uncrossing his arms as he pushed himself off the wall, “Sorry, H. I love watching you with him. You’re so good to him”

Harry shooed Louis out of the room, following him after he turned the light off and closed the door behind him. “Of course, I’m good to him, Lou. I care about him.”

“I know,” murmured Louis happily. “I heated up dinner, if you’d like it.” Harry followed Louis out to the dining room, where the two sat and chatted while Harry ate. Louis rambled about his day and how his parent meeting had gone that morning, informing Harry that he truly did think the behaviours were going to stop based off the meeting. Harry then proceeded to tell Louis about how stupid the meetings had been that day and how sick of meeting with that particular author he was. Although he had been working with her for over four years, she was still the number one pain in his ass. Once he had finished ranting about his day, Harry asked how pickup had gone with Beckham.

“Oh, it went good. A little weird, but I got to meet the evening staff, which was nice,” Louis mentioned, browsing through his phone. “Speaking of which, Miss Ashley, the headmistress was wondering if we could come in for a meeting on Friday afternoon when we go to pick up Beckham. I told her that should work for us.”

Harry stopped chewing, looking up at Louis in confusion. “Why does she want to meet with us? Is Becks alright?”

“As far as I know, yes,” Louis chuckled, rolling his eyes at Harry’s alarm. “It’s probably just a formality they like to do with all of the parents, Haz. It’ll be fine.”

Harry just grunted, shrugging it off before taking another bite of the lasagna. He moaned, “Fuck, I’m so happy I taught you how to cook.” Louis slapped his arm, producing a bellowing laugh from Harry.

Friday rolled around without much hassle—they were always an early day for Harry, meaning he usually was getting home before Louis, who typically had play rehearsals. However, because they were meeting with the headmistress of the preschool, Harry pulled his Range Rover up to the school at three o’clock and waited for his best mate. 

A few minutes after three, Louis came rushing out of the school, a massive grin on his face when he saw Harry with the windows down and his sunglasses on. The shorter lad quickly threw his messenger bag in the back before taking his spot in the passenger seat.

“Hi, H,” he shouted excitedly, buckling himself in. “I love when you pick me up—it makes me feel all fancy and shit.”

Harry laughed at Louis’ ridiculousness, shifting gears to drive off from the secondary school. “God, you’re so weird.”

“But you love me,” Louis replied rhythmically, reaching for the radio to cycle through the stations like he always did. Harry just admired the man to his left before focusing his eyes back on the road. For the rest of the drive, Harry sat and listened to Louis sing to whatever song came on the radio, sometimes joining in with what he knew. When he wasn’t singing, Louis was chatting off Harry’s ear about his day, which Harry never minded.

Once the pair were pulled into and parked in the parking lot of the preschool, they unbuckled themselves and walked towards the door, where Louis reached out to hold Harry’s hand. Harry was hoping that Louis wouldn’t be able to tell how clammy Harry’s hands were, playing it off that it was because of the abnormally hot September day, but of course, he noticed.

“Don’t be nervous, H,” Louis reassured. “Like I said, it’s probably just routine, alright?” Harry gulped, but nodded anyway. The two signed in at the front desk, being greeted by Cassandra, who Harry was most familiar with. She offered them a kind smile and asked them to sit, informing them that the headmistress would be right with them. After another five minutes, Miss Ashley appeared, beckoning them to follow her to her office.

“Thank you both so much for being here; I know you’re both busy men, so we appreciate it,” she said once they reached her office and she shut the door. “Feel free to take a seat and get comfortable.”

“Thank you, Miss Ashley,” Harry responded, motioning for Louis to sit first. Once seated, Harry continued, “It’s no problem at all. We’d do anything for our little Beckham.”

Miss Ashley smiled at the two of them, but something about it unsettled Harry. “Yes, of course. Anything for our children, yes?” Louis and Harry both nodded. “Well, you know we love having Beckham at our preschool. He is truly such a well-mannered, intelligent bundle of joy. I swear that boy brightens the room every morning.”

“Thank you ma’am,” said Louis shyly. “We try our hardest to raise him to spread kindness and politeness. Treat people with kindness, that’s what Harry always say.” Louis glanced at Harry, smiling widely.

Miss Ashley hummed, “That’s a great saying, Mr. Styles.”

“Oh, please,” Harry interrupted, “just call me Harry.”

“Right,” the headmistress nodded. “I don’t want to worry either of you that anything is wrong with Beckham at all. I know most parents’ first instinct with these meetings is that we’re kicking their kid out of preschool. That’s not the case at all. We really see Beckham thriving here, and as I said, he’s a brilliant addition to the class.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, Miss Ashley, why did you call us here,” questioned Louis, who slid his hand onto Harry’s knee.

The woman in front of them cleared her throat, eyes trained on Louis’ hand, “Well, you see, Mr. Tomlinson, a few of us had our concerns about Beckham’s home life. Particularly, the title that he has given Mr. Styles here.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat before it rapidly picked up the pace, beating excessively. Louis’ eyebrows scrunched and his mouth hardened as he questioned further, “What about his home life is a concern to you, or others here, Miss Ashley? Beckham has a very happy home life as far as I’m concerned.”

“Oh, of course, Mr. Tomlinson. I don’t want this to sound accusatory.”

“It’s a little late for that, it might seem.” Harry squeezed Louis’ hand comfortably, hoping to send the message that he needed to calm down.

The headmistress kept her smile, “I don’t mean any offence, Mr. Tomlinson, but we have our concerns that he refers to Mr. Styles here as a father figure, in particular ‘papa,’ which in fact isn’t necessarily true.”

“I-I,” Louis stuttered, eyes sharp, “I don’t see how that is any of your business or your concern. Many families are arranged differently in today’s modern world. Last I checked, we chose this preschool because you were LGBTQ+ friendly.”

“Oh! Mr. Tomlinson, we don’t mean Beckham having two fathers is a problem, no. We have several children in our preschool with same sex parents,” she clarified, waving her hands in front of her. “We are very accepting of any sexuality at this preschool and believe that any combination of parents is capable of raising a child well. What we are more concerned about is that Beckham has been calling Mr. Styles ‘papa,’ when he is, in fact, not his biological father, nor you current or previous spouse or significant other.”

“So?”

“So, we are concerned that this might confuse Beckham in his future development. This particularly comes in mind when Mr. Styles and you do decide to move apart from each other, or if either you or he gets into a relationship in the future.”

Louis just stared at her incredulously, clearly pissed off that she was wasting his time. He snapped, “Again. I mean no offence, Miss Ashley, but I do not understand why this might be any of your business or concern. While, yes, I do appreciate you looking out for the wellbeing of our son, how we decide to raise him and what we decide he should call either of us, or any relative, current or future, is ultimately up to us.”

“But Mr. Tomlinson, cannot you not see where this might cause a confusing point in the future for your son when you decide to give him a real second parent some day?”

That statement, as gently as it was spoken, pierced a dagger straight through Harry’s heart for several reasons. The first was because, yes, there is a possibility that sometime in the future, Harry’s perfect charade of playing family with Louis and Beckham could come to end when Louis meets the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with. Second, it was clear that this woman didn’t see Harry as a real parent, regardless of how much time and energy he has put in raising Beckham. And it hurt because both were true.

“No,” Louis stated, shocking Harry out of his thoughts. “I can’t see that because frankly I don’t see that in the future. And who the fuck do you think you are to sit here and tell me that Harry isn’t a real second parent to Beckham? Why do you think you know anything about our lives?”

“Louis, I really think you need to calm down,” Harry murmured, uttering his first words since this conversation started.

Louis’ head shook vigorously, “I will not calm down, H. This is ridiculous!” His eyes bore into the headmistress’ brown ones. “How dare you tell me that Harry isn’t a real parent when he was the first one to know about the pregnancy? When I thought he was going to kick me out after he found out, he instead asked me to stay and told me he wasn’t going to let me raise this baby alone. When I had to tell my entire family that I was having a kid, he was right by my side making sure that _I_ was the comfortable one, even though he had to fear his mum’s reaction more than anyone else’s. Harry was in the room when we found out we were having a boy—he discussed baby names with me until _he_ suggested Beckham. He rearranged his entire home office to have a nursey in our flat, which _he_ decorated.” Louis took a breath, standing from his seat to pace.

“Mr. Tomlinson, I think I get the point.”

“But I don’t think you do! Those were just the big things he did before Beckham was even born, during a time that he could’ve just up and left without any responsibility. Instead he stayed. He was there when he was born—he was the first person to hold him after me. He did skin-on-skin time with Beckham when he was only half an hour old. Beckham’s middle name is named after Harry. He’s been there for all his firsts—first word, first step, first injury. Harry keeps me on my feet, and he loves Beckham more than anyone else ever could. So don’t sit here and tell me that you’re concerned that Beckham will get confused later in life. When, and if, I decide to bring someone else into Beckham’s life, they will be his stepparent, because Beckham already has two.”

And while Harry’s heart was breaking, it was slowly mending itself back together from Louis’ words. He obviously knew how Louis felt about him—how he appreciated him, but it was very rare that it was all thrown into one conversation. Something, however, still wasn’t sitting quite right with Harry, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

“Well, I do apologize, Mr. Tomlinson.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Louis scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Apologize to Harry, Beckham’s papa.” Louis reached down for Harry’s hand, pulling Harry to stand up and move towards the door. “I do not appreciate you wasting either of our time, Miss Ashley. If you’ll excuse us, _we_ are going to pick up _our_ son and take him home. Friday is our movie night as a family.” And just like that, Harry and Louis were out of the room, back at the front desk to check Beckham out.

“Daddy! Papa!” Louis’ face lit up instantly at the arrival of their son, who was grinning ear to ear at the two men. The little boy jumped into Louis’ arms, who then proceeded to plant kisses all over his face. Once Louis had released Beckham, he came running over to Harry, asking to be picked up.

Harry obliged, setting the boy on his hip and leaning in to kiss him cheek. “How was preschool today, Becks?”

“It was good, Papa! I gots like a bajillion questions!”

“A bajillion,” asked Harry, feigning shock; he could tell his tone was much less enthusiastic than usual, as could Louis. 

Louis piped in, throwing Beck’s bag over his shoulder, “Well we better get to answering them, love, before our movie night!” The little family made their way out to Harry’s car and head on their way home.

Once the three were settled back in their flat, Beckham bounced to the living room, ducking down to pick out a Disney movie for the night. Harry moved slowly, untying his shoes and placing them back neatly by the door. He took in a deep sigh, slowly releasing it, still feeling off from earlier.

“You alright, Haz?” Harry looked over to his best friend—the one he was in love with and who will probably find someone else someday—and smiled; it was clear that Louis was feeling sympathetic towards him with the sad, calm smile he had on his perfect lips.

Harry shrugged, not really knowing how to reply. If he was being honest with himself, he definitely wasn’t alright—he felt sick to his stomach, like he was lying to himself. He felt like he was lying to himself, his family, Louis, and even Beckham. This wasn’t his life—this isn’t his family, no matter how much he wishes it was. The headmistress was partially right. One day, Harry will have to stop living in this little fantasy land where him, Louis, and Beckham are an actual family. One day, possibly, Louis will bring a man home and introduce him as a boyfriend, and Harry will be cast out and ripped from the two people he loves most in the world. And that fucking terrified him—fuck, he was going to puke.

“Honestly, Lou, I’m not feeling too hot,” Harry admitted shyly. “I know it’s Friday, but I think I’m going to skip movie night. I need to lie down.”

Louis wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, pulling him flush to his chest. Harry reciprocated the hug, breathing in the vanilla scent that was always specifically Louis. Louis’ raspy voice spoke, “That’s alright, Haz. Becks will understand. Why don’t you go lay down and I’ll get the little monster distracted?”

Harry only nodded, pulling back and glancing out to the living room where Becks was giggling at a DVD case. He looked back at Louis, who was still watching him like he was fragile glass and attempted a smile. 

“Thank you, Lou.” With that, Harry turned around and headed off to his room to really take in the day. Once the door was closed behind him, Harry moved to remove his clothes, undoing the knot of his tie and unbuttoning his shirt to strip. When the Cheshire man was in just his pants, he pulled on a pair of trackies and shut off the light, slipping into his bed in the darkness.

Harry had always dreamed of having a family one day. Even before he knew what being gay was, he could always see himself settling down with his dream guy, having a football team of children that his dream husband would coach. He wanted to live in the suburbs with a beautiful home and a large kitchen, where he could prepare his meals for his future family. He had always craved for a perfect family, despite watching his own parents fall out of love—maybe that pushed him even farther to accomplish this dream.

With Louis and Beckham, Harry had his own little family. While he wasn’t living in the suburbs with a massive kitchen, it was big enough for two adults and a toddler. They spent family time together, watched movies, and Harry even got to watch Louis teach Beckham how to live up to his namesake playing football; Harry, of course, would be there to make sure Beckham learned the value of having fun, and not just winning. Louis was even perfect—everything Harry had ever hoped for in a future spouse. It seemed like Harry’s dream had come true. The only problem was none of it was permanent—this was all just temporary until Louis began dating again, finding that perfect replacement for Harry.

If Louis weren’t the first one to break, Harry would surely start dating soon—he knew he couldn’t pine after Louis’ for the rest of his life; he couldn’t pine over him until Beckham was eighteen years old either. What would happen once Beckham started to comprehend their situation even more? Surely the boy won’t mind having two fathers, but what is he going to think when he realizes that this wasn’t a normal situation? This wasn’t a normal family, and he could grow up resenting either Louis, Harry, or both; Harry didn’t want that. 

Once Beckham was old enough to have friends outside of his Uncle Ernest and Aunt Doris, how would he and Louis explain their relationship to his friends’ parents? How would Beckham, when he was old enough, draw out a family tree to show to his class? Maybe Harry thought it was never supposed to go this far—maybe he thought that by this point, Harry or Louis would’ve found someone else by now and fallen in love, leaving the other behind.

Harry hadn’t dated anyone in years—the last serious boyfriend he had wasn’t even that serious: It last six months in his second year of university and got about as far as meeting his sister. It wasn’t that Harry wasn’t interested in the guy; he only broke up with him because he didn’t feel that spark he had been hoping for. Gemma had pointed it out that she didn’t see the connection between the two either, so Harry ultimately ended it with him. Since then, Harry had been on plenty of dates—it was never getting a date that was the problem; it was keeping the boy. Once Louis had broken the news about the baby to Harry, he had virtually given up dating all together, focusing on getting ready to raise a child with the man he was truly in love with.

Louis, on the other hand, hadn’t dated anyone serious since Harry was a first year in university. After the two boys had met, Louis decided to go to the University of London, and once Harry had finished sixth form, he followed. During those two years before Harry had arrived in London, Louis had dated a guy named Zayn on and off. As far as Harry had been told, it had gotten quite serious and Louis was excited for his boyfriend and best friend to finally hang out. However, only a few months into Harry’s first year, the dick left for the U.S. without any warning, breaking up with Louis through a letter and never looking back. It broke Harry’s heart as he helped Louis pick up the pieces of his. Clearly, Louis still had one night stands every now and again, but Harry always dubbed Louis’ lack of dating life as still being hung up on Zayn—Harry knew how it felt. He just stared at the ceiling for hours taking in the events of the past few hours until the sun had set. 

Laying here, however, considering these new thoughts, maybe it was time for Harry to find himself a life he knew he needed to eventually. Maybe this was a sign from the universe that he needed to separate himself from his best mate and Beckham before anyone got anymore attached. Maybe he was what was holding Louis back from finding his life partner and a real second parent for Beckham.

He shot up from his bed, noticing how the moonlight seeped through the curtains, providing only a sliver of light for Harry to see. Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he moved towards his closet. Pulling out his duffle bag, Harry began tossing in random shirts and pants, making sure he had a suffice amount for a few weeks. He chucked the duffle on his bed, next heading to pack his work laptop into his backpack, as well as his personal laptop and charging cords. When he reached for his phone charger, his cloudy green eyes fell upon the picture on his nightstand. It was a photo of Louis, Harry, and Beckham at Beckham and Harry’s joint birthday party. Beckham was turning three and Harry 28, Louis’ lucky number. That was the year Beckham had given Harry the frame the picture was in, claiming his as the “World’s Best Papa”; it was also the year that Harry had gotten Beck’s birthday tattooed on his chest, alongside his mum’s. Harry would always argue, however, that his best birthday present was Beckham, and he made sure to remind him of that every year.

Harry reached forward for the picture frame, shoving that in his backpack before zipping it up. He quickly threw a t-shirt over his shirtless torso before throwing the backpack over his left shoulder. Harry grabbed the duffle bag, making his way into the hallway and towards the living room.

The taller man froze when he saw Louis on the couch, glasses perched on his nose and book in his hand. Louis glanced at him over the pages, eyes wide and brows furrowed. The smaller lad closed the book slowly, seemingly afraid to make any sudden movements. He placed the book on the coffee table, standing up and making his way over to the fleeing man.

“Haz, what’s going on,” questioned Louis cautiously. His cerulean eyes spotted the bags in Harry’s hand. “Where are you going? It’s nearly eleven at night.”

Harry couldn’t look away as he muttered, “I have to go, Louis. I have to clear my head.”

“Harry,” warned Louis, placing his hand on Harry’s chest. “Why don’t we put the bags down and chat for a bit. Is this about today and what that woman said? I’ve already talked to Lottie and we’re going to find a new preschool tomorrow.”

“Lou, it’s not that. Well, it’s not that completely.” Harry shut his eyes, taking a step away from Louis and effectively removing the other man’s hand from his chest. “She’s right, Lou. We’re going to fuck up Beckham or our relationship with him if we don’t stop this now.”

“Stop what, H? I don’t understand.” 

“This, Lou! This pretending that we’re a real family, that I’m Beckham’s parent! We can’t keep doing this,” shouted Harry, who dropped his duffle bag to the floor to bring a hand over his face in frustration. “I mean, fuck, Lou; what’s going to happen when you do find somebody else? What happens to me? I can’t watch that happen.”

Louis’ face dropped completely, sorrow filling his voice, “I hadn’t realized we were pretending, H. I sure wasn’t, and I didn’t think you were either.”

“You don’t get it, Lou,” Harry muttered sadly. “Maybe neither of us were pretending, but we both know that this was always temporary for you. I can’t sit around and wait for that day to come without it killing me completely.”

“Who says it was temporary, H?”

“You! You’re going to find someone one fucking day and where am I left?! What happens to me?! I can’t sit and wait for you to come home every fucking day for you to walk through that door and tell me you’ve fallen in love!” Time felt like it froze as the two men just stared at one another. Sad green met blue. “This was always a temporary arrangement, Louis. You don’t love me like I love you and I can’t keep doing this.”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me, H. What do you mean I don’t love you like you love me?”

Harry sighed, deciding now would be the best time to break everything completely—burn that bridge. “I’ve been in love with you since you were eighteen, Lou. I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you since I accidently weed on your shoe at the Script concert. And it fucking kills me every day to come home knowing that one day this charade will end, and you will fall in love with somebody who isn’t me, and they’ll get to have what I’ve always wanted with you—a life.” Harry didn’t dare look at his best mate. “Every time we go out with the boys, I just know that one day, you won’t go home alone. Fuck, when you told me about Beckham, I felt that my world was going to crash down because I thought you would leave me for his mother. And every day it fucking _kills_ me inside knowing that. And I can’t do it anymore, Lou. I need time to think and clear my head.”

“Will you be back?” Harry looked at up the voice cracking, only to find Louis with tears running down his cheeks. “Harry, I don’t think you should go; I think you should talk this through with me.”

Before Harry could speak another word, the two men heard a door creak and small feet patter on the hardwood floors. Louis quickly went to brush the tears from his cheek and Harry did the same. Beckham’s sleepy voice came from the darkened hallway, “Daddy? Papa? What wrong?”

The little boy toddled further into the living room, rubbing his tired eyes and yawning. Once he opened them, he eyed the bags in his papa’s hands, looking at him with confusion. “Are we going to Gram’s?”

Harry knelt down to look Beckham in his baby blues, forcing a smile and a cheerful tone. “No, babes. We’re not going to Gram’s. Papa has to go on a little trip for work, but I’ll be back soon to watch all the movies and read you all the stories.”

Beckham continued to look at Harry confused, “But who gonna tell me about fishys?”

“Well, Becks,” Harry smiled, placing his hands on both of the boy’s shoulders. “Daddy can tell you about the fishys until I come home, okay?”

“Hmm. Okay, but only a few times,” Becks agreed, still apprehensive.

Harry pulled Becks into his arms, kissing his forehead a few times. “Good, babe. I’m sorry we woke you up. It’s way past your bedtime. Can you get back in your big boy bed for me and go back to sleep?”

“Yes, papa.”

“Alright. Off you go then,” he chuckled. “I love you, Becks. So much.”

“Love you too, papa. Night night.” The little boy leaned in, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck once more before turning back to the hall and going into his bedroom again. Harry stood up from his squat, letting out a shaky breath as he looked back to Louis.

“Please, Harry. Stay and we can talk this out.”

“I can’t, Louis. I need to do this.” He leaned down again, retrieving his duffle bag in his hands. Before doing so, he reached into his trackies to pull out his car key. He handed it over to Louis, pressing it into his palm so he would grab it. “Take the Rover for now just in case you need to use it. I’ll take the train. I have to go, Louis. I’m sorry.” He didn’t let Louis utter another word, mindlessly opening the front door and walking out—away from Louis, away from Beckham, and away from his life as he knew it.

A few hours later, he found himself in front of his mum’s house in Holmes Chapel, bags in hand and tears running down his face consistently. The Lyft drove off, leaving Harry in the late-night silence when the porch light lit up and his mum was on the other side of the door.

With one look at her, he dropped his bags and flew into her embrace, letting her stroke his spine calmingly. Harry let out a sob, followed by a second, and they just kept coming, surprising Harry because he didn’t know that this much crying was possible. After a few minutes, she ushered Harry inside his childhood home, settling him on the couch with a blanket and she stroked his hair.

“Oh, love, what happened,” she questioned quietly.

Harry just shook his head, not being able to get any words past his sobs. His throat was so dry and raw, but he managed to squeeze out, “I’ve ruined it, mum. I’ve ruined it.” His mum looked on worriedly as he continued to repeat that until he passed out when the sun rose.

* * *

Five days had passed, and Harry hadn’t spoken with Louis once. He doesn’t think there had been a time in the last twelve years that him and Louis had gone this long without talking. The silence was truly deafening, but Harry knew this was his fault; he was the one who left.

He had been awake for several hours, staring at the stars on his childhood bedroom’s ceiling letting the thoughts take over; the past few nights haven’t supplied him with the best sleep. He wondered about how Louis was doing, hoping he wasn’t hurting too bad. Harry had texted their friend Niall on the train to Holmes Chapel, explaining in very little detail that he needed to go over to Harry and Louis’ shared flat and check on Louis. Harry hadn’t heard from Niall since.

His thoughts had been running wild for five days—all the memories that he had shared with Louis, all the moments with Beckham he had, all the shit they had to go through to get where they are. And Harry was missing it. He was missing Louis and Beckham, but he had never once put himself first. Louis makes him happy though, of course, he does. Even if he couldn’t have him, he had agreed to this. And now he had backed out, leaving Louis by himself. His thoughts wandered back to when Harry was first told about the baby:  
  


**4 Years Ago** **~ 3 Months Pregnant**

_Honestly, Harry was having a good day today; it seemed like everything was going his way. He had woken up before his alarm this morning, fully rested, leaving him extra time to take a relaxing shower. His eggs turned out just the way he liked them, not too runny and not too dry. The tube was on time, and it wasn’t too packed, meaning he actually got a seat for his morning commute—that never happens. The editor-in-chief liked all of his suggestions to their upcoming Winter publishing lineup, even offering a compliment for all his hard work. The author that was always late for her monthly meeting was actually early today, meaning that when Harry walked through the front door of his flat at 6:30 pm on the dot, he couldn’t have felt more relieved._

_All that changed when he was met with a partially dark flat, no loud best mate blasting Arctic Monkeys or screaming over the latest football match. Instead, he heard quiet whimpers coming from the dining room, where he was met with said best mate hunched over himself, tear tracks evident on his cheeks._

_Harry approached his flatmate gently, setting his briefcase on the table and making his way to squat next to him. He carefully placed a hand on Louis’ forearm, gripping slightly, as he asked, “Lou, what’s going on? Are you okay?” The crying just turned into sobbing, Louis putting his face into his hands to muffle the sounds. “Louis, you’re really scaring me. Can you tell me what’s happened so I can try to fix it?”_

_Louis sniffled, shaking his head vigorously as he just repeated, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”_

_“Louis, I really need you to talk to me. Is it your family? Is everything alright?” He nodded his head yes. “Then what’s going on? Why are you apologizing to me? Did you break something of mine? You know that’s okay, Louis, I won’t be mad.”_

_“I didn’t break anything,” he mumbled into his palms. “It’s so much worse, Haz.”_

_“Come on, Louis,” Harry offered, grabbing onto Louis’ tricep to force him to stand with him. “The dining table is no place to talk. Let’s go lay down.” Louis gave in, leaning on Harry as he cradled him and walked them towards Harry’s bedroom. Once they arrived, Harry sat the crying man down on the bed, unclipping his braces to set them down on the floor. Harry quickly removed his own clothes to switch into some sweats and a tank top before he moved back over to his best friend._

_After Louis was settled against Harry’s chest tightly, the rough fingers of Harry’s delicately making their way through Louis’ hair, the tears finally began to subside. Harry took it as a win. Ten minutes later and the sobbing had ceased, wet and raw cheeks remaining in their wake._

_“Can you tell me what happened now that you’ve calmed down, darling?”_

_Louis tensed, his voice rough as he responded, “I-I don’t know if I can, H. I’m so scared. I’m so sorry.”_

_“Love, I doubt you have to apologize.” Harry leaned down to press a kiss to his mate’s hair. “Tell me and we can work on it together, whatever it is.”_

_Louis shivered at the kiss, croaking out, “That’s the problem, Haz.” He took in another shaky breath. “I don’t think you’ll want to work on this together. It’s not one of those things we work on together.”_

_Harry felt another tear fall onto his chest and his heart broke further. “Either way, we’ll figure something out.”_

_Louis’ breath quivered again. “I’m having a kid.” And—_

_Oh._

_That’s not what Harry was expecting. At all._

_Louis, his best friend since he was sixteen, had gotten a girl pregnant. It’s not like it was shocking—he was bisexual, and last Harry knew, he still liked women even though he hadn’t actually dated one since Harry’s first year in university. However, what did this mean for them? Does this mean that he had a girlfriend and had just never told Harry about her? Was he moving out to be with her and this new child? Was he going to keep the child?_

_“Harry, I can hear the gears grinding in that unfairly handsome head of yours.”_

_Harry snorted in response, “I’m sorry, Lou. I just—”_

_“Wasn’t expecting that? Yeah, neither was I when I came home to her sitting at our front door,” Louis laughed bitterly. “And I already know what you’re going to ask, H. I’m not with her—we’re not dating. She was a drunken mistake from one of the bar hops with Niall and Liam a few months ago. I have no feelings for her, and I definitely don’t want to be with her.”_

_“And what about the kid?”_

_“As in, am I going to keep it?” Harry hummed a yes. “I think so. I mean—it’s not like I don’t have the money and I am twenty-seven. I also don’t think I could live with myself putting a kid up for adoption either, H. Know my kid’s out there growing up never knowing who their father is.”_

_Harry stayed silent, taking in the newfound information, and still wondering what was in their near future._

_Louis snuggled further into Harry’s chest, letting out a sigh, “I’m assuming by your deafening silence you’ve realized you can’t help me with this. Or that you disagree. I know it’s going to change everything. The baby isn’t due until February. That’ll give you a good six months to find a new flatmate, and for me to find a new place to live.”_

_Harry suddenly sat up, staring at Louis incredulously. “What do you mean ‘move out’? Why are you moving out?”_

_Louis sat up with him. “Harry, I’m keeping the kid. I can’t ask you to move out of here. I’m the one inconveniencing you.”_

_“No, Lou. Why is anyone moving at all?”_

_Louis looked taken aback, confusion clear on his features. “I—do I need to repeat that I’m keeping the kid, Harry?”_

_“Yeah, no I heard you the first two times, Lou. That still doesn’t explain why you or I need to move out? Unless you’re talking about us getting a new place altogether? I don’t see why we would need that; we can just convert my office into the nursery. We’ve got plenty of time—”_

_“Wait. Wait! Harry!” Harry’s rambling stopped, eyes becoming wide with ideas of how he could move his room around to fit his desk in it. Louis continued, “You—your office? A nursey? You mean you still want me here, even with a baby?”_

_Suddenly, a perfectly beautiful smile overtook Harry’s face, dimples popping out on either cheek. “Of course, I want you and your baby here, Louis.” He suddenly reached forward, engulfing Louis’ small hands with his own. “Lou, I was serious when I said we’d work through this together. You’re my best friend, have been for almost a decade now. I’m here for you, as long as you need me. Plus, I love babies. I’ve always wanted one of my own, and now I can just help you raise yours instead.”_

_The cheeky and dreamy smile Louis was receiving from Harry made his insides tingle and his smile brighten. Louis responded, “You’re my best friend too, H. I just want you to make sure you know what you’re getting into, love. This is an actual child we’re speaking about.”_

_Harry chuckled, “I know what I’m getting into, Lou. And I know that I’m not letting you do this alone.” Louis felt endeared by how serious Harry managed to be. “Besides,” Harry shrugged playfully, “you really expect me to believe you can raise a baby by yourself without killing it? No way, I’m not letting my future niece or nephew suffer.”_

_A boisterous guffaw fell from Louis’ lips, causing him to fall back onto the mattress beneath him as giggles continue to tumble. “I’m more fit to raise a child than you, H! I have, like, six younger siblings that I practically raised!”_

_“Uh-huh, sure.” Harry laid back down next to his best mate, resting his hands on his tummy with a permanent smile on his face. “You know, Lou. I’m so excited to have a baby in the house. This is the best possible news I could’ve had today.”_

_“You’re really okay with this?”_

_Harry hummed his agreement, and he really meant it. He really loved children, especially babies, and it was something that he was now looking forward to. Sure, it was definitely not what he was expecting to hear when he got home today—or any day for that matter—but he couldn’t bring himself to care about that. He would do anything for Louis. When they had met in secondary school, Harry only sixteen and Louis eighteen, he knew from that moment he would do anything in his power to give Louis the world. When he started falling in love with Louis, he didn’t know how to react besides holding it in as to not lose his best friend—so far, it’s worked. And as he lays here now, thinking about all the prep work they’re going to have to do to bring a baby into their home—all the childproofing, the rearranging of schedules, finding a good baby sitter, telling their parents—he just couldn’t bring himself to care because it was all for Louis. It was always for Louis._

_“You and me against the world, Tomlinson…and other little future Tomlinson.” Harry’s good day had just turned into a great one._

His thoughts ended abruptly when a few knocks were placed on his door. Anne’s voice spoke from the other side, “Harry, are you awake?” He grunted loud enough to be heard, then listened as the door unlatched and opened. His mum set a tray on his nightstand before sitting herself at the edge of his bed, stroking his hair.

“Hi, mum,” he mumbled.

She smiled sadly at her boy, “How are you feeling today, love?” He shrugged noncommittedly. “I know; probably a stupid question, darling. Are you going to finally tell me what happened with you two? As much as I love you being here, obviously something isn’t right.”

“You’re going to hate me for it.”

“Probably not more than I hate you for leaving Louis and Beckham,” Anne joked, pinching his cheeks. “If I’m going to hate you for it, I’d much prefer you tell me why you left my grandson.”

Grandson. 

Anne calls Beckham her grandson, which is just another level of how deep they had dug themselves in. Harry groaned outwardly, letting the details of the past week fill his head again. He looked over to his mum with sad eyes, trying to conjure up the perfect words to explain the situation.

“I told Louis, mum.”

Her eyebrows furrowed curiously, as she continued, “I’m not sure I understand, darling. What did you tell him?”

“That I love him.”

“Oh.” Harry was expecting her to say more. “I-I, wow, Harry. I’m assuming it didn’t go over very well.” 

Harry sat up, sighing, before he shrugged again. “I don’t really know, mum. We had this stupid meeting with Beckham’s preschool headmistress the other day. And she told us she was concerned about Beckham’s wellbeing because he was calling me papa, even though I am not his dad nor am I dating Louis. And then I got to thinking that I’m so afraid that one day Louis was going to come home and tell me to get out. And I can’t keep playing pretend with them because it’s killing me. It’s killing me that I can’t be with him how I’d like and maybe I’m just pulling a sick prank on myself and one day it’s actually going to kill me. So I left. But it hurt so bad, mum. I miss Louis so much, and I miss Beckham. And Beckham is probably so confused right now because I haven’t been back. No one is there to read him his stories with the proper voices because as much as I know Louis tries to do the voices, he can never do them properly. And I was just being selfish and now I regret it. I regret it so much and I miss them. I hate myself.” Harry took in a deep breath and wiped away the few tears that had fallen. “I think the worst part is he tried to stop me, and I didn’t even listen, mum. He wanted to talk, and I said no. I walked away. He must hate me now.”

“Oh, baby,” Anne cooed, pulling her son in for a hug. “I don’t think that boy could hate you if he tried. I’m sure he’s not too happy with you, but it’s nothing you can’t fix.”

Harry pulled away, defending, “There’s nothing too fix, mum. Yes, I walked away, but I still did I for a reason. It doesn’t change that he doesn’t love me like that.”

“Harry, you didn’t give him a chance.”

“I gave him twelve years, mum.”

“Yeah, but he gave you twelve years too,” she chuckled. “Maybe you’re both just idiots who needed it spelt out for you. You need to be fair, Harry.” She was right. His mum was always right, but it was in this moment that he didn’t want her to be. He didn’t want her to be right because that means that he might’ve walked out on the one person who means most to him, which leaves the chance that he won’t take him back. And the only thing that would hurt more than rejection was losing his chance. 

“What do I even do?”

Anne kissed his head before stroking his hair again, looking at her son determinedly, “I guess you’re going to have to figure that out yourself, Harry.” She stood from his bed, patting his shoulder once more before walking towards the door, yelling over her shoulder, “Eat your breakfast while you figure out a way to get my grandson back.”

The door closed behind her and Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he looked over at the breakfast. She had set it next to the picture of him, Louis, and Beckham. Harry remembers how scared he had been to tell his mum about their decision to keep Beckham. So much had changed in the nearly four years since they had made the announcement:

**4 Years Ago** **~ 4 Months Pregnant**

_Harry busied himself around the kitchen, finishing dinner for the massive amount of company they were about to host. Every now and then, he would glance through the doorway to the living room to check on Louis, seeing him pace occasionally in front of the television. A few of the times Harry has nervously glanced out at Louis, he would see Louis fidget with a cushion on the couch or run his hands through his hair—which he really needed to stop doing because he was messing it up. Harry pulled out the main course from the oven, garnish it with a little more seasoning when Louis’ head popped past the archway._

_“I’m going to go get dress—they should be here within the next fifteen minutes or so,” Louis announced, trying his best to send Harry a smile, but, to his misfortune, it came out more like a grimace._

_Harry just nodded, offering up an encouraging smile, “Okay, love. Are you sure you’re okay?”_

_“Yeah,” Louis responded, a little too quick to be genuine. “Yeah, no I’m fine. I promise. Promise.” His voice drifted off as he walked down the hallway to his room, and Harry just took in a breath. It was a big day for both of them. Their families, both Louis and Harry’s, were coming over for dinner so they could tell them about the baby. Louis, obviously, was quite nervous to see the “disappointed” face of Lottie and Liam, even though Harry is pretty sure that’s not going to happen. Harry, on the other hand, is quite terrified to tell his mother of his decision, and Niall, considering they know his feelings for Louis._

_Harry jumped when he heard a bang and a fuck, quickly moving to set the dish on the dining room table before rushing to Louis’ room. When he pushed open the door, all he found was his best mate on the floor surrounded by clothes and several other objects. The tall man manoeuvred through the mess until he was next to Louis, grabbing his hand to lift him up._

_“Jesus, Lou, are you alright?”_

_“No! I’m not alright, Harry,” Louis pouted, bringing his red face into his hands. “Can’t we just pack up, move to America, and never seen anyone again until my child is 18 years old?”_

_Harry chuckled, pulling Louis into his arms to squeeze him. Louis accepted it, setting his head in the crook of Harry’s neck. “We can’t do that, Lou. I think Lottie might be even more pissed at you if she knew she had a niece or nephew she never met.”_

_“I know you’re right, Haz. Fuck. I just wish this were easier.”_

_Harry soothingly ran a hand down Louis’ back, letting the shorter man calm down. He admitted, “I’m afraid for everyone’s reactions too. This isn’t exactly a normal situation.”_

_Louis nodded, pulling back from Harry to look into his deep, green eyes. “You can still back out, Harry. I won’t be upset.”_

_“No,” Harry exclaimed, shaking his head vigorously. “I’m not backing out, Lou. I want to do this.” He leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on Louis’ forehead. “Let’s get dressed, yeah? They should be here any minute now.”_

_Exactly five minutes later, the doorbell rang, and Harry made his way out of his room to let whoever it was in. On the other side of the door was his mum, Gemma, and Michal. Harry offered his mum and sister a hug, before shaking hands with Michal._

_“Louis, darling!” Harry looked over his shoulder to watch Anne gather Louis in her arms, and his heart warmed at the sight. Anne had always loved Louis and shown him affection, but ever since Louis’ mum had passed away, it seemed she became even more of a mother to him than before._

_The Doncaster lad accepted the greeting, replying, “You look beautiful, Anne. Did you get your hair styled?” Anne just laughed, explaining her latest trip to the salon while Michal approached Louis with his hand out. The three continued to chat while Gemma made her way up next to Harry._

_“Well, this dinner isn’t suspicious at all, little brother,” she chuckled, side-eyeing Harry. “Are you going to tell us you two have finally gotten your shit together and gotten eloped? You know mum will be pissed if that’s the case. She was so looking forward to planning your wedding.”_

_“Oh, shut up, Gem,” Harry whispered, glaring at his sister. “We’re not getting married. He doesn’t even know I feel that way about him.”_

_She just rolled her eyes. “Well, maybe tell him then?” Before the conversation could continue on, the door was slamming open, revealing Niall and Liam, who both had massive grins on their faces. Niall quickly went to Harry, pulling him into an embrace. He said in his ear, “You two finally get together yet?” Harry just pulled away to glare at him as well._

_“I hate both you and Gemma.” Niall laughed loudly, causing Harry to flush at the attention it garnered from Louis. His best mate offered him a shy smile, which Harry returned. Shortly after the two had walked in and greeted Harry’s family, another knock came to the door and the Tomlinson’s had arrived. Harry offered Phoebe and Daisy a group hug, complimenting them on how beautiful they had looked, before making his way over to Lottie to hug her._

_After greetings had made their way around the room, Harry brought his hands together, announcing, “Alright, let’s eat before supper gets cold!”_

_The ten of them squeezed around Louis and Harry’s dining table, talking animatedly about school or other events that were going on in their lives. Harry was kind enough to serve the main dish, allowing others to grab sides as they pleased. After a few minutes of conversing, a lull took over the table as everyone began digging in._

_Once most of the plates were cleared, Niall had seconds, and Louis had run to the kitchen for the dessert pudding, Gemma finally broke the silence, “So, are you boys gonna tell us what we came here for? Surely you can’t expect us to believe you just wanted to visit with family.” The rest of the table chuckled as Harry rolled him eyes._

_“Well, what if that was the case, Gem,” Harry snarked playfully. “Maybe I just missed you all.”_

_“H, you know we all love you both, but come on,” Niall laughed, his eyes wide in amusement._

_The Cheshire lad looked over to his friend nervously, his knee starting to bounce in anticipation. “Uh-well. The thing is—”_

_“We’re having a baby!” The spoons moving towards the dessert froze mid-air, with mouths dropping open and eyes widening at Louis’ sudden announcement. Harry heard Liam’s fork clatter onto the plate, but he didn’t dare move his eyes from his mother’s face. “I mean,” Louis continued, chuckling nervously, “I’m having a baby. And Harry has agreed to help me raise it if that makes sense.”_

_“A baby,” Daisy clarified, her accent thick with curiosity. “You’re having a baby, Lou?” Louis nodded with a smile. “Oh, my God! I’m going to be an auntie! That’s so exciting!” Daisy was suddenly out of her seat, running to her brother with her arms out in front of her. Louis hugged her tightly as Phoebe joined in, and suddenly exciting chatter was filling the small room. As far as Harry could see from the corner of his eye, even Michal was smiling and congratulating Louis, but he wasn’t focused on him—no, he was focused on his mother, who was now setting her napkin down on the table and walking out of the room._

_He quickly stood from his own chair, causing it to scrape against the floor as he went to follow her, but was suddenly stopped by his sister. She pulled him in for a hug, whispering in his ear, “When I made the joke about marriage, H, I was kidding. But a baby? You sure know how to pull a surprise.”_

_Harry chuckled, his cheeks glowing red. “Thanks, Gem, but I’ve really gotta—.” He pulled away, pointing toward the direction in which his mum went._

_“Yeah, she looked livid. Good luck.” She kissed his cheek for good measure before letting him chase after her. After failing to find her in the living room, he spotted her sitting at the edge of his bed with a framed photo of Louis and Harry in secondary school clutched in her hands. He slowed, green eyes boring into the framed photo, as he rested himself up against his doorframe._

_His mum laughed softly as she ran her finger timidly over the glass where Harry was. “I remember when you and Louis first met. You came home from that Script concert, and I asked you how the concert was expecting a rundown of your favourite songs, but you just went on and on about this bloke you met from Doncaster. You hadn’t even come out to me yet, but you just didn’t care at that moment because it was all about him.” She suddenly looked up at Harry, tears glistening in her eyes and Harry’s heart softened. “Harry, I love and support you in everything you do, you know that. I just want you to be happy.”_

_“I know, mum.”_

_“Are you sure this is a good idea?”_

_And Harry stopped. It wasn’t hesitation—he had made up his mind the second Louis muttered those words a month ago. Harry was positive he wanted to do this; whether or not it was a good idea was another story, because it probably wasn’t the best._

_Anne sighed, placing the picture down beside her and standing up to approach her son. “I know you’ve thought this through, Harry. You’ve always been so critical and careful in your decisions. This isn’t me questioning you. I’m just your mother, so I care. We both know how you feel about Louis—”_

_“And what’s that got to do with anything, mum?”_

_“Because this is a kid we’re talking about, Harry! Kids change everything! I still don’t even understand the situation fully!” Anne stepped away, pacing the floor. “I know that the kid is Louis’, but are you going to be the child’s second parent? Are you going to be a father? Am I going to be a grandmother again?”_

_Her kind eyes were staring into Harry’s with a degree of scrutiny, so Harry breathed in deeply. “No, mum. I’m not going to be the kid’s father,” Harry reassured, approaching her carefully. “I’m just going to be Uncle Harry, or Harry, who happens to live in the same house. And I can’t let Louis raise this kid by himself, mum. I’m happy with this arrangement—actually I’m ecstatic, and I think that’s all that matters in the situation.”_

_Anne side-eyed her son, before hunching her shoulders in acceptance. “That is all that matters, sweetheart. You know I love Louis like a son, and I’m not upset at either of you. I just want you to be careful with your heart, love.”_

_“I know, mum, I will be.” She chuckled, wrapping her arms around Harry’s waist tightly. He basked in the motherly embrace for a minute, thanking God that his mum was so accepting of his decisions, knowing that not all are. Once they pulled away, Harry continued, “Also, in regard to the whole grandmother title, I’m sure Louis would absolutely love if you’d pick that up. I think it’ll be quite hard without Jay around to be the kid’s nan.”_

_Anne reached up, placing a kiss on her son’s cheek. “I would be honoured, love. I’m here for both of you, always. I’m so excited to be a nan again! God, I hope it’s a boy. Don’t get me wrong, I love the little granddaughters Gemma and Michal have given me, but I’d love to buy something other than princess dresses for Halloween! Those things are expensive, darling!” Harry bellowed out a laughed, eyes shut tight and dimples popping._

_“We’ll see what we can do, mum. I’ll make sure to take that up with the baby dealer.”_

_Anne laughed as well, slapping her son’s arm playfully. “Now, come on, Harry. Let’s go celebrate the announcement of my grandbaby.” So, the pair made their way back to the dining room, where excited chatter was still floating among the sisters, who already had several websites pulled up for baby clothes. Niall seemed to be making chat with Louis and Liam about how the baby was going to need a Derby County football jersey to wear, which Liam adamantly argued for a Liverpool one. Anne quickly made her way over to hug Louis, telling him how excited she was. Even as the night settled down and his mum made her way into the girls’ conversation about cribs and diapers, Harry just glanced over to Louis, who was already smiling that beautiful smile back._

_Yeah. Everything was going to be okay._

Harry scarfed down his breakfast, ideas racking his brain about how he could make it up to Louis. He supposed the only thing he could do was apologize—reach out to him and tell him how horribly sorry he was, but what would that do? What if Louis wouldn’t forgive him? What if it was all a lost hope?

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Harry quickly pulled up Liam’s contact, considering he was always the smartest of the bunch. However, half way through the long paragraph he was about send, he paused, reading it over and erasing it. He tossed his phone on the bed beside him, resting his head in his hands and rubbing his palms into his eyes.

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “I’ve really mucked this up.”

“Well, that’s one way of putting it.” The curls on his head bounced as his head snapped up, green eyes being faced with the brooding face of Liam’s. 

Harry’s widened his eyes, blinking a few times to make sure he wasn’t just hallucinating from the lack of sleep over the past few days. “Liam? Are you actually here? I was literally about to text you.”

The buff man rolled his eyes, moving towards Harry to smack him upside the head as he responded, “Yes, you tit. I’m obviously here.”

“Hey! What was that for?”

“Oh, you’re lucky that’s all your getting. It might have something to do with the fact that you _left_ Louis in the middle of the night five fucking days ago,” Liam explained, eyes sharp and mouth hard. “Seriously, H. In all the years that I’ve known you, I’ve never known you to be so stupid. You might be a fucking idiot, but you’re not stupid. What the hell has gotten into you?”

“I-I don’t,” Harry started, but paused to articulate his words properly. How did he explain himself? “I don’t really know, Li.” His tone was exhausted, the past few sleepless nights finally catching up to him. It wasn’t just from lack of sleep, however, but also the anxiety of losing Louis. “I guess I just finally realized that maybe all those years ago, I made the wrong choice.”

Liam laughed, but not humorously; it was a low laugh, one that was used sarcastically in non-funny situations. “You decide five years later that maybe this was the wrong choice? A little late for that, pal. What the fuck happened to make you suddenly decide to just walk out on a fucking _child_ and your best friend in the entire fucking world? How is Beckham and Louis _now_ suddenly a wrong choice?”

“It’s not! He’s not the wrong choice—they’re not a wrong choice—I’d do it all over again!”

“Then what the fuck, Harry?!”

“I don’t know!” Liam stepped back at Harry’s outburst, doe-eyes wide and surprised. Harry very rarely got upset or angry, but when he did, he was told he was terrifying. And right now, in this moment, Harry was angry. He was so terrified on losing Louis, but it seemed that nobody was understanding his point of view or would let him speak. Harry attempted to calm himself down, annoyed by how fast his chest was rising and falling, and how hard his heart was beating. He unclenched his fists a few time, trying to ground himself before apologizing to Liam. “Fuck, I’m just so lost, Li.”

After anger came regret and guilt, and the tears would follow, which was exactly what was happening now. However, these tears weren’t just angry tears, but the culmination of the past five days and missing Louis; of missing Beckham; of missing everything he had walked away from.

“Shit, H, come here.” Liam was quick to wrap his arms around Harry’s shoulders, pulling him in so Harry’s face was cradled into his neck. If Liam felt the tears staining his shirt onto his shoulder, then he was kind enough to ignore it and not mention it. “We’ve got a three-hour drive for you to explain to me what the fuck is going on and how we can fix this, Harry,” Liam murmured, stroking Harry’s curls. The taller lad just nodded into his mate shoulder, shaking slightly at the thought of seeing Louis. They stayed like that a little longer.

They were an hour into their drive back to London, duffle bag hazardously thrown in the boot, when Liam decided to break the uncomfortable silence. “I’m still real confused here, Haz. I need some kind of explanation. When we all came over for dinner on Thursday, everything seemed fine between you and Louis. Niall and I haven’t been able to get an explanation out of Louis and we’re just both so confused, mate. We’re concerned. What happened?”

“Nothing, really,” Harry admitted, straightening up in his seat after leaning on the window. “Nothing that Louis did, at least. It’s stupid and complicated.”

“Well, obviously it’s not stupid if it forced you to your mum’s house in the middle of the night.”

Now that Harry was playing the situation out in his head and trying to find a way to word it, it became obvious that he blew it way out of proportion. Or maybe he didn’t—but maybe he could’ve handled it differently.

He sighed dejectedly, “Maybe I’m stupid.”

“That’s obvious, mate.”

“Shut up,” chuckled Harry, cracking only the smallest of smiles for the first time in days. “Do you remember when Zayn came back into the picture nine years after he left Lou and fucked off to America?” Liam just hummed his confirmation, urging Harry to continue. “I was really off for a few days—I don’t know if you really remember that part, but I’m sure Louis does.”

“You didn’t come to lads’ night for like three weeks.”

“Right.” Harry nodded, picking at skin by his fingernails nervously. “I was so stuck in my head because I always thought that Louis hadn’t really dated anyone in years because he was so caught up on Zayn still. Even though he hadn’t mentioned him in years, I just always figured his lack of dating came from missing Zayn. And when Zayn showed back up, fuck, it terrified me. I thought it was then and there that I was going to lose everything.”

“Wait,” interrupted Liam, moving his eyes away from the road just long enough to give Harry a confused look. “You thought Louis was still in love with Zayn and that’s why you refused to come to lads’ day for three weeks? Because you didn’t want to see them together? And that’s why you don’t like Zayn?”

“I mean, no,” explained Harry, shrugging slightly. “I mean, kinda, yes. I also just don’t like Zayn because he hurt Louis all those years ago. I remember having to pick up the pieces of his broken heart when he just dropped a letter at the front door and never spoke to him again. It never really made sense why he just fucked off.”

Harry was expecting an eye roll, or maybe an hour long lecture of why he was being ridiculous, but what he wasn’t expecting was a boisterous laugh to fall from his mate’s mouth. “Fuck, man. Zayn was right!”

“What the fuck are you on about, mate? Right about what?”

“You really are oblivious, mate. Louis never showed you the letter, did he?” 

No, Louis hadn’t shown Harry the letter; it was the first time that Louis said it was just too personal to show Harry—which was never an issue before. They shared everything with each other, including extremely personal information.

“By your lack of response,” chuckled Liam, “I’m assuming he never showed you the letter. Why did he tell you that Zayn left?”

With his eyebrows furrowed, Harry responded, “He told me he got a new job in America and wanted to take the opportunity, and that he said long distance relationships never worked.”

“That’s mainly true, H, but you’re missing a large part of it.”

“Like what?” Harry had never been so confused in his entire life. This felt like something that Louis would never hide from him, so why did he only tell him part of the truth?

Liam glanced over at his confused mate again, pity clearly in his eyes at the boy’s confusion. “Zayn and Louis dated for that first year and a half of uni, yeah? I mean, they were seeing each other in Louis’ second year and eventually that turned into something more, and I’d say their relationship was always pretty solid, but there was just always something about it that didn’t quite settle. It was Louis, really—like he was holding himself back. Then you came around and you got a flat with Lou, and we finally realized what it was about Lou that was holding him back.”

“What?”

“You, dumbass.” Harry’s thoughts paused right there because—what? “Regardless of what we were doing or where we were, even if you weren’t there, his thoughts were _always_ on you. And he kept reassuring Zayn that nothing was going on between you two and that there were no feelings, but Zayn wasn’t blind. None of us were. It was clear that Louis was so far gone with you that there would never be anyone else who would compete.” Liam paused, glancing to see pure shock on Harry’s face as memories were probably rushing at him full speed. “Zayn did get an offer in America, and he did really want to take it, but it wasn’t long distance relationships that caused their breakup, H. The other part of that letter that Lou didn’t show you was how Zayn told Louis that he knew he was in love with you, and that he didn’t want to stand in the way. As long as you have been in front of Lou, he has _never_ been caught up on somebody else, including Zayn, except you, mate.”

“No—you—no. You’re fucking with me,” stuttered Harry, disbelief clear on his face. His head snapped up, eyes meeting Liam’s desperately. “You have to be fucking with me, Li. Why did he never say anything to me over the twelve years that we’ve been friends?”

Liam just shrugged, eyes staying focused on the road. “Probably for the same reason you didn’t tell him. He was afraid of ruining everything.” The Cheshire man swallowed, collapsing into the passenger seat, head spinning with his thoughts. “I think after a while, the two of you just got so comfortable with Beckham and your life, that neither of you ever wanted to risk ruining it. And now we’re here, even though I still don’t know why we’re here.”

“That—that explains—I.” Harry stopped, minding rushing back to just a few months ago when Harry hadn’t joined lads’ night to stay in and watch an ill-ridden Beckham.

**4 Months Ago**

_Harry reached for the doorknob, turning it and pulling it open. He figured that Louis might’ve just lost his keys in Niall’s car again, but he wasn’t expecting the smaller man to be leant up against his ex’s shoulder with a dopey smile on his face._

_“Hazza! Baby!” Louis’ voice was loud before his eyes suddenly widened and he shushed himself, along with Zayn. “Oops, I forget Becks is sleeping. Sorry, Hazza.”_

_Harry just shook his head in amusement, meeting the equally amused eyes of Zayn; Harry willed away the jealously that was flaring in his gut—he originally thought that it would’ve died down well over a year ago when Zayn first returned._

_“Where should I set him, Harry?”_

_The curly-headed lad nodded his head towards the hallway, offering, “Bedroom is the second door on the left.” Zayn just nodded curtly, a tight smile on his lips and he moved past Harry and into the corridor. Harry just watched, shutting the front door slowly behind him and letting out a breath he was holding. He moved toward the living room, waiting for Zayn to emerge._

_A few minutes later, following some various door closings, Zayn came into the room, tight smile still remaining and looking flawless as ever. His soft voice broke through the silence, “He’s in your bed. Said he prefers sleeping next to ya when he’s drunk or summat.”_

_“Oh, ok,” nodded Harry, slowly rising from the couch to face Louis’ ex. It was still quite tense between the two of them, considering their history, but Louis seemed to want Zayn in his life, and Harry wasn’t going to stop that. “Thanks for bringing him home safely. Seems like you lads had a good time.”_

_“Yeah, we did. Too bad you couldn’t be there. How’s the little guy doing?”_

_At the mention of Beckham, Harry cracked a smile, dimple popping out. “Yeah, he’s doing better. Finally got him to fall asleep around eleven. Poor kid was exhausted, but he’s got his medicine now so he should be right as rain by the end of next week.”_

_Zayn smiled in response, “That’s good to hear.” A somewhat awkward silence hung in the air, like something was going unsaid, or like Zayn wanted to say something. Eventually, he did. “I’m really happy for you two, you know? And I’m happy that Louis has someone as amazing as you to take care of him.”_

_“Oh.” Harry’s shoulders dropped in relief as he casually shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I’d do anything for him—for both of them really.”_

_“You always did.” Harry chuckled and so did Zayn. “I’m just happy you two finally pulled your heads out of your arses and got together.”_

_This caught Harry off guard as he quickly cleared up, “Wait, no. We—we aren’t. I’m not—Louis and I are just friends. Louis doesn’t feel that way about me, not like he feels about you.”_

_Zayn’s chocolate eyes just rolled and he snorted, “You are both ridiculous. Don’t you get it Harry? He doesn’t feel that way about anyone but you.” With another laugh and shake of his head, he departed. “Good night, Harry.” And he left, leaving Harry there in his tracks with his brow furrowed and a mess of thoughts going through his head._

Harry’s head was back in his hands, it throbbing with a headache from the tension building. “So, what even happened to make you leave, H? What started this all?”

“Friday we had an appointment with the headmistress of Beck’s preschool and she basically told us that it was wrong that we were letting Beck call me papa, because I am not biologically, legally, or potentially related to him,” explained Harry exasperatedly. 

“That’s fucking bullshit, now innit?”

Harry shrugged. “She’s kinda got a point, Liam.” 

“No, she doesn’t, Harry.” Harry very rarely heard Liam this stern and couldn’t think of a time he had used this tone on him since university. “First off, it’s none of her fucking business. Second off, you’ve raised that kid since the very beginning, Haz. I mean, you were literally there when you found out you two were having a boy.”

Harry smiled, remembering that moment like it was yesterday—he would consider it one of the best days of his life.

**4 Years Ago ~ 5 Months Pregnant**

_“Harry, hurry up! We’re going to be late! No one cares how you’re dressed!” Harry rolled his eyes in the mirror at Louis, who was probably standing by the front door with a hand on his hip. His ran his hand through his hair one last time, before rushing over to throw his rings on his fingers._

_As he made his way out to the front room, he proclaimed to Louis, “I care how I’m dressed. This is my first time meeting your baby mama and I want her to like me.”_

_“Why do you care so much if she likes you? Once the baby is born, we’re never seeing her again.” Harry just delivered a pointed look. Louis sighed, eyes rolling this time, “Okay, I’m sorry. You’re right. Can we get going now? I really don’t want to be late.”_

_“On with it, then,” Harry rendered, motioning towards the door with one hand while grabbing his keys with the other. The taller lad trailed behind Louis, who went skipping down the stairs outside to Harry’s Range Rover. Once Harry was behind the wheel and they were both buckled in, Harry switched gears and began their way to the pregnancy clinic._

_While they made their way down the main road, Harry noticed Louis’ leg bounce nervously and his fingers fidgeting. He reached over the console, placing his hand on Louis’ jumpy knee to still it. Louis looked up, eyes nervous, and Harry couldn’t help but notice how adorable he looked in this moment._

_“Are you excited to find out the gender of the baby, Lou?”_

_Louis just nodded, a small smile making its way to his lip. “I am, I think. A little nervous, but that’s okay.”_

_“What are you nervous about?”_

_Louis just shrugged, “I don’t know, honestly.” He moved his gaze back out the window. “I guess it just makes it all more real, doesn’t it? Like, this is the first sonogram we’re getting. We’re going to have a picture to frame on our mantel—something to actually show our families, yeah?”_

_“And that scares you, yeah?”_

_“Terrifies me, H. I’m so excited though. Like as more months pass, I can’t help but be excited to have a baby in our home.” Blue met green. “And I also can’t help but think what they’ll look like. Will they have my hair or my eyes? Will they like footy as much as I do?”_

_Harry chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “I can tell you one thing, Lou. No matter what the kid looks like or acts like, they’re going to be one hell of a kid, because they’re yours.” The smile that Harry gets in return made everything in the world worth it._

_“I love you, Haz. Thanks so much for doing this with me.”_

_“I love you, too, Louis.”_

_After another twenty minutes passed, they were pulling into the parking lot of the clinic just outside the city. Once outside the car, Louis latched onto Harry with his hand, pulling him close as they made their way inside._

_The clinic was a calm, lovely environment, with soft green walls and plush carpeted floors. A kid play table sat in the corner, where a small two-year-old was playing with some blocks while his mother sat to the side flipping through a magazine. Several, large plush couches were in the small waiting room, and on the one in the opposite corner was a beautiful woman._

_She had clear, pale skin, complemented by dark brown, curly hair that fell past her shoulders. It was pushed back by a headband, revealing two kind, crystal green eyes that twinkled in the lights. Her nose was pointed, and her lips were a cupid’s boy, coloured a rose pink. What really caught Harry’s eye, though, was the baby bump covered by the black t-shirt she wore under her sweater._

_“Mia! Hi!” Louis rushed over the girl Harry was just looking at, offering her a hug. She smiled widely at him, revealing a dimple on her left cheek._

_“Louis, look at you! You look happy,” she exclaimed, eyes drifting to Harry, who was lingering behind Louis. “And this must be your boyfriend, then?”_

_Louis sputtered, and Harry blushed fiercely, shaking his head and he rushed out, “No, no. Just best mate and flatmate. Not boyfriend. Yeah. I’m Harry.” Mia’s eyebrows raised in realization, and a smirk made its way to her face as Harry stuck his hand out to engulf her small one._

_“My mistake,” the girl giggled. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Harry. Let’s sit and chat, yeah?” So, the three did. Mia caught Harry and Louis up on the baby’s progress and shared with them more details on how the custody will work at the hospital. She informed them that she had already reached out to a lawyer to allow all custody over to Louis. Harry also learned more about Mia, like that she was from a town in Cheshire called Wilmslow, which was only a short 20 minute-drive from Harry’s hometown of Holmes Chapel._

_Eventually, a nurse called Mia’s name, and Mia and Louis went to stand up. They began to make their way to where the sonogram room was, but Louis suddenly stopped, noticing Harry wasn’t following. “Are you coming, Haz?”_

_His eyes widened as he asked, “You want me to come with you?”_

_Louis smiled at Harry gently, “Of course, darling. Come on.” Mia smiled at their exchange, but the smile went unnoticed by the boys, as they found themselves lost in their own world._

_The nurse led them into the doctor’s office, helping Mia get settled into a gown and rested comfortably on the table. Harry sat off to the side as Louis took the seat next to Mia, who Louis was talking adamantly to about a lot of the plans him and Harry had discussed for the baby. Harry could feel a small pang of jealously build in his gut, which he tried to shove away seamlessly. Part of Harry was worried that Mia would suddenly change her mind and fall madly in love with Louis, keeping the baby and leaving Harry in the dust completely. The logical part knew that would never happen._

_Finally, the sonographer came in with a smile, explaining the process to Harry and Louis, who had yet to go through this, and prepped the machine. Once it was up and running, Harry watched in amazement as the screen lit up, revealing various shades of blue and white. After some searching, he finally saw it. A gasp fell from his lips as he brought a hand up to cover his mouth, his eyes wide. Louis turned to him with a watery smile, reaching for his hand and clasping it tightly. There on the little screen was Louis’ baby, resting easy with a little fist clenched._

_“And there’s your little one, Mr. Tomlinson and Mr. Styles. It’s looking like they’re growing just fine, and luckily for you, Mia, they’re in a perfect position right now. I’d say we are right on track,” the sonographer explained cheerfully. “How many pictures should I print today?”_

_“Uh, five,” Louis guessed, looking at Harry for confirmation. “Think my sisters will kill me if they don’t get a copy.” The sonographer chuckled, typing something into the computer._

_She moved the brush over Mia’s belly a little more, smiling back at the boys before questioning, “And are we wanting to know the sex today?” Harry smiled at Louis encouragingly, who turned back and nodded excessively. “Okay,” she smiled, leaning close to the screen. She stopped on what looked like a little blob, pointing at the screen. “If you look right there, you will see a little penis growing. Congratulations, Mr. Tomlinson, and Mr. Styles. You’re having a boy!”_

“Can’t believe they’d even believe that Beckham isn’t yours in the first place, with the curly hair and all,” laughed Liam. He shook his head disbelievingly, remarking, “Beckham’s mum could’ve been your sister if I’m being honest, H.”

“She does kinda resemble me, doesn’t she?”

“Kinda? Literally could be related to you. Wonder why Louis picked her?” Harry ignored him, rolling his eyes as he took all this information in. He wasn’t ready to face Louis again—what if he didn’t take him back? What if he had ruined his chance? “I can hear you thinking from here, H. What’s up?”

“Just—what if he doesn’t forgive me? I can’t believe I just left him and Beckham! What kind of idiot would do that? I didn’t even give him a chance to explain himself, Li. I just left.”

Liam just responded, “He’ll forgive you.”

“There’s no way you know that, Liam,” argued Harry, leaning over to place his head back in his hands, feeling the headache grow stronger. “Shit, I fucked up and I’m terrified at the thought of not being able to fix it.”

“You’ll fix it, H. You two always do. You can never stay mad at each other.”

“But we’ve never had a fight this big, Li. Nobody ever left—I never left.”

“Everything is going to work out, just fine. I promise you.” Harry just sat back and prayed to God he could believe Liam. Harry leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes and thinking about the last time they had fought this bad, which had been just two months before Beckham was born.

**4 Years Ago ~ 7 Months Pregnant**

**** _“Honestly, H, what is your deal today? You’ve been an arse since seven in the morning,” stated Louis, rolling his luggage into the living room, ready for a weekend up in Doncaster with his family. Normally Harry would tag along, but he had a massive book deal that was being launched on Monday and he wanted to be near just in case something went wrong that he had to fix._

_The taller lad just rolled his eyes, slumping farther into the couch with papers in his hand, head throbbing insistently from the stress of work. “I told you, it’s nothing, Lou. Just a lot going on at work with the whole book launch.”_

_“Are you sure you’re okay? I can tell Mark I can’t come up and we can just have a nice weekend in.”_

_“No,” rushed Harry, shaking his head vigorously. “You haven’t seen your sisters and brother in ages, and who knows how often we’re going to get to visit once the baby is born. I want you to go. I’ll be okay.”_

_Louis sighed, lifting the handle on his suitcase up, ready to depart. “Alright, H. Speaking of which, don’t forget we really need to get that nursey done soon. The doctor says that, even though Mia is right on schedule, there is always a chance that he’ll be born early.” Harry nodded absentmindedly, eyes glued to the paper in front of his face. “H?” No response. “Haz?” No response. “Harry?!”_

_“What, Louis?”_

_“I was talking to you. Are you even listening?”_

_Harry groaned, rolling his eyes and looking up at Louis. “I’m busy, can’t it wait?”_

_“Not really, Haz. That shit has been sitting in that room for well over a month now and you said you would set it up two weeks ago,” complained Louis, who placed his hand on his hip. “You know I’m busy with the winter musical and I don’t really have time right now, with coming home every night at nine.”_

_Harry rolled his eyes, “Yeah, well, I’m busy too, Louis, if you haven’t noticed. Trying to launch a new fucking author—I just haven’t had the time.”_

_“When will you have the time, then, H? When the baby is born?”_

_“God, Louis, I don’t know! It’s not even my fucking kid—I don’t have time right now, okay?” Harry froze, shocked at the words that flew from his mouth. He quickly dropped his papers, standing from the couch and moving towards Louis, who’s mouth was wide open and hurt evident in his eyes._

_Harry tried to reach out and apologize, but Louis just put his hand up and backed away. “You said you wanted to do this.” Chills were sent down Harry’s spine at the coolness of Louis’ tone and the tears welling in the corner of his crystal eyes. “You didn’t have to do this. I can do it on my own. I don’t need you.”_

_“No, Lou, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry,” explained Harry, a sense of urgency in his tone. “Sunflower, I’m really sorry. I know you don’t need me but I want to be here. Please believe me.”_

_Louis just shook his head, “Fuck off, Harry. I’ve gotta go. I have a train to catch.” He turned on his heels, moving towards the front door rather quickly._

_“Wait, Louis. Please, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”_

_“Save it, H.” And that door slammed behind him. Fear struck Harry’s heart as he listened for the suitcase to roll down the hallway. He collapsed to his knees, head in his hands and regret in his heart._

_Two days later, Louis strolled through the door, whistling the new Ed Sheeran song and shutting the door behind him. It was Sunday evening, and he had cooled off significantly since Friday after having a long and comforting conversation with his dad._

_“Haz! I’m home!” Louis kicked off his shoes, throwing his keys onto the side table and looked around. He paused, noticing the Christmas tree in the corner, decorated with various ornaments the boys had collected over the years. He smiled at the soft lull of Andy William’s Christmas Hits play from the turntable. Lights were strung along garland by doorways and on the mantel piece—it was beautiful._

_“Harry, where are you?” He started to wander through the flat, checking both his and Harry’s room before being face-to-face with the door of what was once Harry’s office that they were going to turn into Beckham’s nursey. He froze when he saw the giant bow wrapped around the door, curiosity overcoming his patience and reaching for the door knob._

_The shorter man gasped when he stepped into the room. Harry was there, a large smile on his absolutely beautiful face, dimpling popping and eyes sparkling. Louis looked around, tears coming to his eyes as he looked at the white crib, with a footy-themed sheet and a Doncaster Rovers’ blanket draped over the side. On the other side of the room was the rocking chair the had a plush football on it, placed next to a large bookshelf with loads of children’s books. On the floor beneath their feet was giant football shaped rug that was soft as hell. There was also a storage dresser, with block letters placed along them: B-E-C-K-H-A-M. Louis giggled, thinking back to when Harry had suggested the name and how excited Louis had gotten. On the wall above the crib was his last name—Beckham’s last name—in white letters, with a football painted below it. What Louis really loved, however, was the picture placed by the changing table—it was a picture of Louis and Harry at Harry’s university graduation. They had been so happy that night and it was the first night of their official adult life together. It was perfect._

_“Oh, Harry—it’s perfect.” The tears fell, but were caught by Harry who had approached his best mate and wrapped him in a hug. “Thank you so much.”_

_The stayed that way for a while, just basking in the silence of being together. Eventually, Harry broke it with his slow drawl. “I have something else for you too, sunflower. It was supposed to be for Christmas, but I want you to open it now.”_

_Louis nodded, stepping back and taking the box that Harry had handed to him. He slowly unwrapped, tossing the wrapping paper to the ground and ripping open the box which revealed three Doncaster Rovers jersey. Harry took the box back from Louis, letting Louis pull out the jerseys one-by-one._

_The first was in his size and had_ TOMLINSON, #28 _on the back. The second was Harry’s size and had_ STYLES, #28 _on the back. The final one, buried at the bottom, was an infant jersey that was the same as his own._

_“I figured we should be leaving the hospital in style when he’s born—plus we have to make sure we’re ready for his first footy game in March,” Harry explained, a shy smile on his face. “I hope you like them. I know they’re a little dorky.”_

_Louis was crying fat, embarrassing tears, but he didn’t care at this moment because he hadn’t felt this happy in a very, very long time. “I love them, Harry. So much.”_

_Harry smiled in return. “Louis, what I said on Friday—I want you to know that I really really want you two here. I want everything that will come with having Beckham in this house, and you. I always want you here and I want you to know that I’m committed to this. You have me forever. You and me against the world, Tomlinson.”_

_Louis dropped the jerseys, rushing forward into Harry’s waiting arms, and squeezed him hard. “I know, Harry. You and me against the world, Styles. Always.”_

“We’re almost home, Haz,” said Liam, who shoved Harry out of his slumber. He shook himself awake, not even realizing he had drifted off to sleep. Harry looked around, noticing the familiar buildings around him, and suddenly his anxiety had risen again, and it was back full force.

His hands shook and his breathing sped up as he attempted to swallow the lump that was rising in his throat. “Fuck, I’m so scared.”

“Just have faith in him, Harry. It’s going to be okay.” Harry just nodded, not wanting to argue with Liam. A short five minutes later, they were pulling into the parking garage for Harry and Louis’ building, and he was trying his hardest to not puke right there. Liam put the car in park, carrying Harry’s duffle bag for him and leading the way to the apartment.

“Wait—what about Beckham? I don’t want him to be here if we fight.”

Liam stopped in his tracks, looking over his shoulder with a sad expression. “Harry, Beckham’s been staying with Niall for the past few days. Louis—he’s been in no condition to take care of him.”

“What do you mean?” Liam just nodded his head toward the door and kept walking.

When they had finally reached the front door, Harry unlocked the door to the flat and stepped inside. It was dark, aside from the cloudy sunshine shining through the curtains haphazardly through to one side. There were several takeaway containers on the table, and, realistically, it looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since the night Harry left. A mound of blankets was stacked on the couch in an unfolded pile. Toys were littered on the floor, but Harry made note that the important toys that Beck always played with were gone. There were several tea cups on the coffee table, some half full and others leaving tea rings on the glass. Harry was itching to pick it up, but that wasn’t his priority right now. He tiptoed inside, nervous to make any sound in the deafening silence of the place. He turned back to Liam with a raised eyebrow, almost to ask what the fuck had happened.

“He hasn’t been doing well, H. That’s why I came to get you,” explained Liam, face drooping in sadness. “We haven’t been able to get him to eat in days. He’s barely been drinking his tea saying it doesn’t taste like how you make it. Told Beckham he was having a sleep over with Uncle Niall for a few days. I have never seen him this way before, H.” Harry nodded, turning around to look down the hall, where the doors to Beckham and Louis’ rooms were open. “He’s been staying in your room. Refuses to let go on your duvet.” More silence followed, but it was clear that Harry was having an internal battle with himself. He hadn’t meant to cause this much pain, and even though everyone was aware of that, it didn’t make him feel any better. “I’m gonna head over to Niall’s and let you fix this, yeah?”

“Okay, Li,” Harry whispered, absentmindedly walking further into the flat towards his bedroom. He stopped short of the corridor, turning around and saying, “And Liam—thank you.” Liam smiled, shutting the door behind him as he walked out. Every step Harry took closer to his bedroom was another moment spent in his head trying to figure out what he was even going to say. It was spent wondering if Louis would even listen to him, or talk to him. All those thoughts, however, ceased when he pushed the door open and found the curled up form of his best mate under his duvet on his bed.

He tiptoed over to the bed, anxiety bubbling in his stomach, but he pushed it away long enough to reach down at the quiet figure. Louis jumped at the touch, but uncovered himself and looked up, eyes widening at the sight of Harry. Harry watched the hundred emotions flash through Louis’ eyes—anger, confusion, happiness, hope. Feelings of guilt rose as bile in his throat, but suddenly the emotions in Louis’ eyes landed on despair as tears welled up in the already red-rimmed eyes.

“Harry? Tell me you’re really here.”

Harry nodded, his own eyes tearing up at the sight of Louis, before croaking out, “I’m here. I’m so sorry, but I’m here.” Louis shot up, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck, holding on for dear life. Harry held back just as tight, squishing his face in Louis’ neck and taking in the sweet scent of vanilla and baby powder. Harry was just repeating how sorry he was into Louis’ neck as he sobbed, letting all his emotions from the past week overtake him.

Eventually the pair fell to the bed, just holding each other like they never wanted to let go. Harry’s anxiety had dissipated as he felt instantly calm looking into Louis’ eyes longingly. “I’m so sorry, Louis. I shouldn’t have walked out without talking to you first. It wasn’t fair. I’m so sorry for leaving.”

Louis just shook his head, brushing away a stray tear that had fallen onto Harry’s cheek. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to leave, baby. I forgive you, just please don’t do it again. I don’t think I could handle if you left again.” Harry nodded, leaning forward and pressing a kiss on Louis’ forehead. “We really need to talk, Harry.”

“I know, but can we nap first? Talk after? We both looked like we haven’t slept all week.”

“I love that idea, baby.” With that, Harry and Louis shuffled into their normal position, Harry’s head resting on Louis’ chest so he could listen to his heartbeat and Louis’ face in Harry’s hair. They shared their warmth, and Harry could only think of one other time that he had ever felt this calm.

**3 Years Ago ~ February 1 st**

_“Mr. Tomlinson? Mr. Styles?” The two nervous men rose to their feet, hands locked together, ignoring their family surrounding them in the delivery waiting room. “You can come back now. There’s someone we think you’d like to meet.”_

_Harry looked at Louis and excited green met blue. Louis nodded at him, squeezing his hand comfortingly, and the two men followed the nurse through the double doors. Eventually, down the corridor, they entered a room where a baby was wailing as doctors did various tests on him._

_Tears instantly filled Harry’s eyes at the sight of the little baby, dark tufts of hair on his head, ten little fingers, and ten little toes kicking up into the air. The room was empty, aside from the equipment and two chairs in the corner._

_“Mr. Tomlinson? Would you like to do some skin-on-skin bonding?” Louis nodded eagerly, removing his sweatshirt and sitting down in one of the chairs. They brought the little baby, who had been washed off, over to Louis who took him. Harry pulled out his phone, snapping a few pictures of the father-son duo, hoping that his crying hadn’t made his hands shake too much._

_After some time had passed where Louis and Harry just listened to the gurgles coming from the little boy, the nurses went to take the baby from Louis’ arms. Immediately, the baby began to wail again, probably missing the warmth that Louis’ chest providing._

_“Excuse me, Nurse? Would it be possibly for Harry to do some skin-on-skin, as well?”_

_Harry’s eyes widened in shock at the question, turning to Louis to question, “Are you sure?”_

_“Of course, H. You’re just as much his father as I’m going to be.” The nurse just smiled, holding the little crying baby in her arms and waiting for Harry to remove his shirt. Once the baby was placed in Harry’s arm, the crying ceased and his little eyes opened, revealing the stunning Tomlinson blue that Louis possessed._

_“I don’t want to interrupt, but we need a name for the certificate.”_

_Louis was the one to respond. “First name is Beckham—like David Beckham. Second name Edward, after Harry. Beckham Edward Tomlinson.” Not for the first time that day, Harry’s head snapped to watch Louis, who was just watching him back with a massive grin._

_“Edward?”_

_“Yeah, Harry Edward Styles. Edward.”_

When the two men finally woke up from their nap, the sun had set and the moon had taken its place. They slowly shuffled to the kitchen, hand-in-hand, afraid to let the other go in fear of them fading away. Louis made them some tea while Harry cleared off the mountain of blankets from the couch. Eventually, they made themselves comfortable on the sofa, leaning against one another with their teas for the long conversation they were bound for.

“I guess I’ll start, yeah?” Harry nodded at Louis’ statement, waiting patiently as he sipped at his tea. “I think, somewhere along the lines, I fucked up, H.” Harry furrowed him eyebrows. “Zayn broke up with me because he knew I was in love with you—apparently everyone knew except for me and you. He was never mad about it, and he knows that we never did anything, but he also knew that my heart was never going to be anyone but yours.” Louis took in a deep breath, taking a sip of his tea before continuing. “It wasn’t until after I graduated that I finally admitted to myself that I was in love with you. It was clear to me that I had feelings for you, but I didn’t know I was in love with you until you started dating that jackass Dylan—“

“Daniel.”

“Yeah, Daniel, whatever. Anyway, when you brought him home to introduce everyone, I remember being so insanely jealously of him. Everything he said and did just pissed me the fuck off if I’m being honest.” Louis’ expression had turned cold, and his eyes seemed focused on his own white knuckles.

“Wait,” interrupted Harry, looking at Louis in shock. “Is that the real reason why we fought that one time about the mug he broke? Because you were jealous?” Louis just blushed, ducking his head from Harry’s line of vision. “I _knew_ there had to be another reason! We had broken plenty of mugs and this wasn’t even a special one.”

Louis scoffed, “Hey! I valued that _Hello Kitty_ mug!”

“Fuck off, Lou.”

“Will you just shut up, H? If you’re quite finished, I’m trying to confess my love for you.” Harry let out a small giggle, cheeks flushed, before shutting him mouth tight. “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I remember laying in my bed one night and I could hear his stupid laugh coming from the living room and it suddenly hit me that it wasn’t just him I was irritated by. It was that stupid kid that use to work in the Starbucks on campus who would always write his number on your cup. Or that one creepy and stupidly handsome TA from Dr. Fulkson’s sociology class. And it wasn’t the fact that they weren’t good people—although Dylan was quite horrible—but it was that I didn’t want to see you with anybody that wasn’t me. Then Beckham came along.”

There was another pause in conversation, and Harry watched as Louis bit his bottom lip between his teeth nervously; he always did that when he was trying to work out a sentence in his head. “When you came home that day from work, I had already convinced myself that I had lost you. You would never want me to stick around, and you would never date me if there was a kid involved. So, when you told me that you wanted me to stay and you wanted to help me raise the baby, in some odd and twisted way, I was getting what I always wanted with you—a family.”

Whatever had previously been rushing through Harry’s mind had halted at Louis’ words. Louis wanted a family with Harry. Louis loved Harry. Louis and Harry were both idiots because they had always wanted the same thing and never told each other. 

Harry was so stuck on this thought track that he had to remind himself that Louis was speaking. “I never told you how I felt because I was so afraid of ruining everything. We had this good thing going after Beckham was born and neither of us were looking for a boyfriend or girlfriend anyway, and I guess I just wanted to keep playing pretend until I had to stop. That, though, wasn’t right. I should’ve just told you how I felt when Zayn and I broke up nine years ago.”

The taller lad nodded, scrunching his nose at the statement. “You should’ve told the real reason you two broke up, Louis. I would’ve understood.”

“I know,” Louis concurred. “And you’re right, I shouldn’t have hidden my feelings from you but I was so afraid, H. When we first met, I was older and I didn’t know if it was ever going to go anywhere. Then when we got closer, I was just afraid you were going to think I was taking advantage of you. Eventually, we both fell into this routine where we were essentially dating but neither of us wanted to tell the other how we were feeling. At the same though, Haz, you could’ve told me, too.”

With an exasperated sigh, Harry nodded. “I should’ve. I think we both fucked up, Lou, and we were both just too fucking blind to see. According to apparently everyone we know, we’ve been pining for a while.”

Louis laughed in response, forcing a smile to break onto Harry’s face as well. “Harry?” He hummed. “I love you. You’re my best mate—always have been and always will be. At the same time though, I am in love with you. I think I have been since I was eighteen, and I’m sick of holding it in. Truth of the matter is, I want you here all the time, forever. I wanna lay in the same bed as you, wake up next to you, raise Beckham together, buy a house, have more kids. I want it all with you, H. I want to grow old with you, and I should’ve told you sooner.”

Tears gathered in Harry’s eyes as he reached forward to where Louis’ hand was settled on his lap, stroking it with his thumb. “I’m in love with you too, Lou. And I want that all as well. And I’m sorry I left. I never should’ve done that—I should’ve stayed—and it will never happen again. I promise. You’ve got me now and you’re never getting rid of me.”

“Good,” chuckled Louis. “I don’t plan on it.” 

Louis leaned in afterwards, placing his perfectly soft and pink lips on Harry’s, who took a few seconds to respond from the shock. However, he easily recovered, lifting his hands to slide up Louis’ neck into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. This hadn’t been the first time Louis and Harry had kissed—Harry thinks there were a few drunken kisses here and there, and obviously they kissed each on the cheek all the time. This was, however, their first kiss as boyfriends. This was the kiss they’d tell their children about and remember when they’re old and grey and can’t remember anything else. This was the time Harry would say he didn’t feel sparks fly, but he felt the warmth spread over him and saw his future flash before his eyes. And what a beautiful future it was going to be now that Louis was in his arms and he was never letting him go.

“Harry,” Louis mumbled against his lips. “Let’s call Niall and Liam, and let’s get our son back, yeah?”

Harry nodded, “Sounds perfect, but first let’s take care of this mess. It’s been killing me since I walked in here. Also you need to shower—you smell like you haven’t seen water in a week.”

“Well, excuse me for having a breakdown because of you, Harold!”

“Fuck off and go get clean. I’ll pick up out here.” Louis jumped up the couch, large smile on his face and ready to run to the bathroom. He turned on his heels, grabbing both sides of Harry’s face with his hands and planting a wet kiss on his lips. 

“I love you, H.”

With shining eyes and a wide smile, Harry responded, “I love you more, Lou.”


	2. Epilogue

**Epilogue ~ 2 Years Later**

“Lou! Becks! I’m home!” Harry dropped his brief case inside the door of their home, undoing his tie so it hung around his neck. He looked up, brows furrowed and green eyes confused at the silence that came through the house. The taller man looked down at his Apple Watch, checking to make sure it was actually 6:00 pm and that the sun outside hadn’t deceived him. The house was never this quiet—not with his husband or their son, who was related to Louis.

Kicking off his shoes and placing them neatly by the front door, he stepped past the foyer and into the living room, craning his neck to see if he could find his family. It was just last year, only a month after Harry and Louis had returned from their honeymoon, that they had purchased their house. It was a lovely two-story stone house with five bedrooms and a massive kitchen in the suburbs of London; the backyard was big enough for two footy nets where Louis could train Beckham, considering he was now the five-year-old’s football coach.

After checking the kitchen and upstairs, Harry decided the next best place to check would be the backyard, where there was a chance they were practicing footy, even though it was Friday and it was movie night. He was shocked to find a picnic blanket laid out in the backyard, various foods and drinks accompanying it, with Louis and Beckham standing there with massive grins on their faces. Beckham looked as if he was vibrating in his spot, holding in a secret—he was just like Harry in that way.

Harry walked off the deck suspiciously, giving both his favourite boys a strange look. “What did you two do?”

“Nothing,” screamed Beckham excitingly. “We didn’t do anything, papa.”

“Mhmm, and that’s why you’re standing here all suspicious, Becks.” The little boy just giggled in return. “Alright, well if you didn’t break anything, what’s all this for? Louis?” He looked at his husband, who was beaming and looked just as excited as the little boy.

Louis looked over to his son, nodded him head towards Harry. “Give it to him, Becks.” Their son nodded, quickly turning around and reaching for a wrapped gift. He handed it over to Harry, who just looked at it suspiciously before looking back up at Louis. “Just open it, you idiot.”

Large hands fumbled with the paper, ripping it slowly to drag on the tension, knowing how impatient both his spouse and son were. Once it was completely torn and fallen to the floor, Harry was left with a white box. He slowly opened it, looking inside at the infant-sized Doncaster Rovers jersey. It was number side up, revealing the #28 and the name TOMLINSON. Tucked beneath it was a sonogram—five months; a boy.

It hit Harry, and the box fell to his feet, jersey and all, as he gripped onto the sonogram and looked up at Louis. “I-what? Are we—I don’t. Oh my, God, Lou! Who’s the surrogate?”

“Mia,” Louis smiled, and Harry felt his heart soar. “Remember when I told you that I hadn’t heard back from the fertility doctor a few months back? Well, I lied. I just wanted it to be a surprise. Please don’t be mad.”

“Mad?” Harry’s eyes were wide as he stared at his spouse with such fondness. “I could never be mad about this, Lou, shit! We’re having another baby! A boy!”

“We are,” Louis tearfully agreed. Harry jumped forward, pulling Louis in for a kiss and hugging him tightly. Louis reciprocated, clutching onto Harry’s button-up like his life depended on it. The moment was interrupted when Beckham released a sound of disgust, to which Louis and Harry laughed.

Harry separated from Louis, kneeling down to be Beckham’s height and exclaiming, “Come here, you bugger. You’re going to be a big brother!” Louis joined in on the hug, basking in the moment with his family. If there was one thing Harry knew for sure, it’s that he couldn’t be happier.

Four months later, Benjamin William Tomlinson was brought into the world, ten little fingers and ten little toes, green eyes, and the smallest dimple on his left cheek. Despite the eyes and the dimple, he looked nearly identical to Beckham, and Harry’s heart couldn’t be more full.

“Alright, Becks, you have to be real gentle, okay? He’s very little,” instructed Louis, who was sitting next to the little boy with his arm over his shoulder.

Beckham nodded, “Yes, daddy. I’m ready!” Harry tentatively moved over towards the pair, a tiny Benji cradled in his arms. He approached Becks, telling him to put his arms out so they would support the baby. 

Once the baby was settled in and Harry knew he wouldn’t be dropped, he let go, telling Beckham, “This is your little brother, Becks. His name is Benjamin, but we’re gonna call him Benji as a nickname. Kinda like how you go by Becks.”

“He’s so tiny, papa,” the boy whispered, eyes glued to the little person in his arms. “Hi, Benji. I’m Beckham, but you can call me Becks like daddy and papa.” Harry smiled, looking up to catch Louis’ eyes and green met blue lovingly. They just looked at each other fondly as they listened to Becks talk to Benji, “We have the world’s bestest daddies. Daddy likes to play footy and likes to sing, and Papa is the bestest storyteller. And we watch movies every Friday and we go on holidays a lot. We’re gonna have the bestest times. If you’re a good boy, sometimes daddy even lets you have a cookie after supper.”

“I don’t know if he’ll be able to eat cookies for a while, Becks,” chuckled Harry, snapping a few pictures with his phone. Becks continued to talk to his little brother and all Harry could do was smile and watch on. He stood from his squat, walking over to Louis and placing a long kiss on his lips.

“I love you, sunflower.”

“I love you too, H. I love you most.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this work! It took a while for me to complete this, but I am so happy I did. This was my first time writing a kid fic, even though I love them so very much. If you enjoyed this, drop a comment or a kudos, and you can check out other works, both fluffier and angstier on my profile.
> 
> As always....
> 
> Stay safe, wash your hands, and treat people with kindness!
> 
> ~winterschild


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